


Finding Home

by Calacious



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Slash, Suspense, Unwanted Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spinelli is taken, will Jason be able to find him in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paranoia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csi_sanders1129](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csi_sanders1129/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters on the show, "General Hospital". This is a work of fiction written for entertainment purposes only.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spinelli gets the feeling that he's being watched, and shrugs it off as paranoia.

* * *

Spinelli absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck and surreptitiously glanced around the crowded café. He'd been unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched for the past two hours. He was working on an idea for a new game that had come to him the night before. He scanned the room as nonchalantly as possible and saw nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for the sudden onset of paranoia that left his palms sweaty.

Reaching for his third mocha of the day, he took a greedy swallow, grimacing at the taste, and resisted the urge to swivel around in his chair. His gut clenched anxiously and he studiously ignored his instincts which were screaming at him that he was being watched and that he should leave now. He determinedly focused his attention back to his computer screen and attempted once more to work on ironing out the basics of his game.

He'd initially gone to the small, out-of-the-way, café rather than staying at the penthouse or going to his and Sam's office to get out of the creative rut that he'd been in, hoping that the idea he'd woken up to would not flee his mind as so many of them often did. The initial mocha that he'd ordered had been a part of his hastily constructed plan and, though he'd have preferred an orange soda, it suited his purposes well and seemed to act as a catalyst for his creativity. For the first few hours, he'd been rewarded for his change in venue as the creativity seemed to flow in and through him and his fingers virtually flew over the keyboard.

It was a freeing experience. He'd never been to this café before, it was just outside of Port Charles and he liked the anonymity it offered him. No one knew him and he didn't know anyone either. It enabled him to focus his entire attention on his creation without the possibility that someone would come along and take his attention away from his work as they exchanged pleasantries.

He'd taken few breaks, to refill his mocha or perform necessary bodily functions. He'd also gotten a rather nice sandwich from their deli and had eaten it ravenously with one hand, while his other had continued to work on the code necessary to bring his game from concept to reality. Chips had accompanied the sandwich and he absentmindedly worked his way through them long after the sandwich had been demolished and forgotten.

Before he'd truly noted the passage of time, the shadows coming in through the window-filtered sunlight had lengthened. Completely bewildered he had looked around the café and noted that the after work rush was upon him and that was when the feeling that he was being watched hit him like a sucker punch.

He tried to shake it off at first, writing it off as a case of unsubstantiated paranoia sparked by the recent dealings he and the rest of Port Charles had had with the darkly focused one, known otherwise as the world-renowned artist, Franco. Sure that it was just a bad case of delayed stress from helping Jason deal with the stalker combined with having imbibed one or perhaps two, too many mochas, he had shrugged it off, but as time went on and the shadows continued to lengthen in the cafe, the paranoia had mounted and he'd been unable to focus on his work.

Maybe he should call Jason. And tell him what? That he felt like he was being watched? He'd sound like some little kid. Besides, Jason had enough on his plate dealing with Michael's situation and he was so wracked with guilt that Spinelli didn't think he'd appreciate it if he bothered him with something as ridiculous as this.

It was probably just his overworked imagination getting the best of him. After all, the game that he was working on was based on a murder mystery; rather several, that had to be solved by the player who got to choose which detective he or she wished to be: Dick Tracy, Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe, Father Brown, Poirot, Lord Peter Wimsey, amongst several others.

Whether or not the game could be marketed or would even find a market, was not really the point, rather the work on it, the creative outlet it allowed for him was what mattered to Spinelli. He took immense joy in creating games and, though his fondest wish was for them to be played and enjoyed by others, the process itself, as well as its end result, was fulfilling.

Deciding that sitting at the café and not getting any more work done on his project was a waste of time, no he was not running away or giving into his paranoia, he shut down his computer and packed everything up and headed for the door, thanking the baristas on his way out. The sun had begun to set and Spinelli's breath caught in his throat as he tugged his cell phone out of his pocket to snap a picture of it. It was hauntingly beautiful, the sun, a large red orange ball was dipping low into the midnight blue sky, sinking as if into a murky pool of kaleidoscopic purples, grays, greens and reds.

He shivered once and drew his arms about himself in a self-conscious gesture as he rushed to his car in the now crowded parking lot. It had been nearly empty earlier that day, now it was packed. He looked around, still that feeling he was being watched stalked him. Seeing no one in the approaching darkness, he fumbled for his keys. His hands were shaking, whether from cold or fear, he didn't know, but it made it difficult for him to press the correct button to unlock his silver hybrid.

"Get a grip," he reprimanded himself beneath his breath. For the first time that day, he took a good look around the neighborhood the café was situated in and realized, rather belatedly, that it was in a rather rough-looking area. Shaking his head, he reached to pull open the car door and stopped mid-movement.

* * *


	2. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jason races to find Spinelli and save him from the madman who has taken him, Spinelli realizes that he's in more danger than he initially thought. His kidnapper is violent, and deranged.

"Act natural, slide into the passenger seat, I'll take your keys. If you draw attention to us or try to drive off, I'll shoot you," a scratchy voice boomed in his ear and something hard was pressed into the small of his back. He felt hot, fetid breath against his cheek and, gulped back the bile which had suddenly risen from his jittery stomach. He nodded shakily and wrenched the car door open, sliding in over to the passenger side.

It was awkward, his limbs were numb with fear and the hybrid didn't offer much by the way of room. He smacked his head hard against the rear view mirror and winced in pain. His cell phone was still gripped tightly in his hand and, glancing nervously at the driver's side, seeing that whomever had stuck a gun in his back had not yet entered, he pressed the speakerphone button and hit Jason's speed dial number, placing the now dialing phone into the pocket of his jacket. Hopefully his mentor wasn't otherwise occupied. He bit his bottom lip as the carjacker edged his way into the car and shoved him over to the passenger seat.

His head hit the passenger side window with a loud crack and stars exploded in his vision. He pulled his legs over the center console and adjusted his computer bag so that it no longer dug into his side. He had yet to look at the man who was taking him hostage. Was it one of the patrons of the café? Had he been the reason for the earlier churning in his gut? Spinelli stole a quick glance at the man out of the corner of his eye and looked quickly away. The man's face was almost completely nondescript save for a long, jagged scar that ran from chin to temple along the cheek closest to Spinelli.

Jason had just returned to the penthouse and was shrugging out of his jacket when his phone rang. It had been a rough day and he was tempted just to let it ring and go to voice mail, but reasoning that it could be something about Michael or Franco, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and eyed the name display warily.

It was Spinelli. Jason's brow furrowed, should he take the call? He vaguely recalled seeing Spinelli leave the penthouse at a virtually unheard of hour for him earlier that morning. He hadn't spoken a word as he'd left, just gave him a half-smile and a wave and had slipped out the door before Jason had even realized he'd been there.

Biting back a sigh, he picked up his phone, fully prepared to be assaulted with Spinelli-talk; he held the phone back from his ear. What greeted him instead was not the rapid-fire talk he'd grown to expect from his roommate, but a strained plea not to be hurt. Jason brought the phone closer to his ear.

"Please don't hurt me," Spinelli spoke as loudly as he dared, not wanting to incur the other man's wrath, but wanting to say something in case Jason had answered the phone. Fearing that he would shoot him if he thought that he was trying to draw attention to them, he spoke at what he hoped was a normal level. "I'll do whatever you want me to, you…you can take the car, just let me go. I…I'll leave my laptop. It's a state of the art model," he was babbling, but couldn't stop himself, "here," he reached into his pocket to draw out his wallet, "you can have all of my money. Just please let me go. I'll call someone from the Morningside café and get a ride. I won't tell anyone about you."

Spinelli opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off abruptly. "Shut up," the dark man growled at him, slapping the wallet out of Spinelli's hand. Spinelli's mouth snapped shut. "Listen to me and listen good," the man repeatedly stabbed a beefy finger at Spinelli's arm with bruising force, emphasizing each word that he spoke, eliciting a gasp of pain from the hacker.

"You are mine now," the words were spoken softly, covetously and Spinelli inched closer toward the passenger door. Panic had him scrabbling for an exit, working at the uncooperative handle so that he could make good his escape before the madman took off with him.

"I don't think so," the man slammed his arm across Spinelli's chest, pinning him back against the seat. He reached over and stretched the seat belt over him and buckled it in place. Spinelli's eyes were wide with fear and he looked outside, wondering if anyone had noticed what was taking place.

No one was even looking in their direction. Those entering and exiting the café had their heads down or were studiously looking anywhere but at what was taking place right in front of them. He might as well be invisible for all the notice that he drew. Spinelli's heart sank and he closed his eyes.

"Don't do that again," the man admonished needlessly. Spinelli was well-subdued. His only hope lie in that phone call he had covertly made to Jason. Had Jason answered? Had he answered and then hung up thinking that the call was a prank or had been misdialed? Had he even heard what Spinelli had said?

Spinelli wished that he could see whether or not Jason was on the other line, but clung to the desperate hope that he was. It was the only thing that would help him make it through this, the thought that Jason was listening in on the conversation and would even now be out looking for him because, truth be told, he was terrified.

What would Jason do in this situation? Spinelli thought to himself. He'd remain calm, cool, and collected. He held his breath and let it out slowly, allowing his eyes to open as the pressuring arm was removed from his chest.

"I…I won't," Spinelli stuttered, looking over at the man anxiously. He hoped that the man wouldn't yell at him again because he'd spoken. "I…I promise that I won't try to escape again." Resigned, he sank back against the seat.

"Good, I'd hate to have to do something to mar that pretty face of yours," the man leered at him and brushed a calloused thumb across Spinelli's cheek. Spinelli flinched, banging his already aching head against the window of the passenger door once again.

* * *

 

 _Hang in there, Spinelli,_ Jason thought. He'd shrugged back into his coat as soon as he'd gotten the call and checked to make sure that his gun was loaded, before racing down the stairs to his SUV. Though his motorcycle would be quicker, he needed to have a mode of transportation which would enable him to listen to Spinelli and the man who held him captive hands free. What the man said to Spinelli caused his blood to boil and brought goose bumps to his skin.

 _You're doing good kid_. He wished that he could speak these thoughts aloud, reassure Spinelli, but knew that if he did the man who'd taken him would hurt Spinelli, so he concentrated on listening to what Spinelli said, hoping that he'd slip in hints as to his whereabouts so that he could trace his movements easier. _Just hang in there Spinelli,_ _I'm coming for you_. He hoped that Spinelli would somehow be able to sense his positive thoughts.

Truth was, he'd never been as proud of the kid as he was now , aside, of course from that time that he'd stood up to him over trying to bull headedly pin the blame for Michael's coma on Claudia. He might have been right about her guilt, but Spinelli had been right to stand up to him. He hoped his young friend would be able to call upon some of that same courage now.

* * *


	3. Somewhere Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injured and terrified, Spinelli tries to understand what it is that his kidnapper is saying, and he tries, in vain, to get the man to stop touching him.

"I've been watching you," the man spoke conversationally and smiled at him as though they were great friends as he started the car. Spinelli tried to focus on whatever road signs he could see in the darkness and note each and every turn the man made as he took a left turn out of the parking lot. They were heading further away from Port Charles, and, much to Spinelli's distress, his hijacker expertly wove the small car through the suburb Spinelli had taken creative refuge in, and out onto the freeway.

"And I knew that you were the right one for me." He looked at Spinelli expectantly, but the hacker was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "The way you focused so intensely on your work and didn't allow anyone or anything to distract you, that's what I've been looking for, someone intense like you."

He reached over and placed a hand on Spinelli's knee, causing Spinelli's knee to jerk in response. The young hacker swallowed and his eyes darted over to the man's briefly before he looked away. The man's dark blue eyes, though not a match for Jason's clear, intense blue, were smoldering with a desire that made Spinelli's stomach clench.

He didn't know if he could do this. He had to get away. He eyed the handle to the passenger door and fingered it carefully. The road was flying by at a speed far too dangerous for him to even contemplate jumping from the vehicle, but as the man continued to stare at him with an open lasciviousness, he wondered if it wouldn't be the better calculated risk.

Risking another barked order to shut up, Spinelli took a deep breath and posed a question he hoped his captor would find innocuous, "So, where is it you're taking me?" He looked over at the man shyly, through the fringe of hair that covered his eyes. He endeavored to ignore the hand which continued to linger on his knee, but it felt weighted and it was all he could do not to stare at it or brush it off of him.

"Somewhere safe," the man answered, not taking his eyes from the road. He squeezed Spinelli's knee and Spinelli bit down on his lip to suppress a terrified whimper.

"Oh," Spinelli frowned. This wasn't going to be easy. "Where is safe?" he ventured. The gnarled hand moved from his knee to his upper thigh.

The man took his eyes off the road for a brief instant and speared Spinelli with an angry gaze. His eyes were coal black and Spinelli looked away. "You don't need to worry your pretty little head about that," he spoke almost tenderly and ran a finger down Spinelli's cheek, causing the hacker to shiver in revulsion. "I'll take real good care of you. You'll see," he promised. He replaced his hand on Spinelli's thigh, patting it before allowing it to settle in place.

Swallowing a fresh onslaught of bile, Spinelli choked back a sob. Stone Cold would not give into tears and neither would he. "I…I know that, it…it's just," Spinelli broke off, hoping that further questioning would not set the crazed man off, "I…I'd like to know where it is we're going, so that I can…be prepared for whatever contingency may arise. You know, to aid you in procuring a safe haven for the both of us," there was an edge of confidence to his voice as he finished speaking and he returned his gaze to the driver.

 _That's it Spinelli, don't let him get under your skin. Keep him talking; I'm coming for you buddy. If that bastard lays a hand on you_ …he didn't finish his thought. His words gave way to images of his hands around the throat of whoever had Spinelli, strangling the life out of him. Franco's threat be damned.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe," the dark man didn't turn to look at Spinelli, but the muscle along his jaw twitched and he removed his hand from Spinelli's thigh. Spinelli saw his knuckles whiten as they clutched the steering wheel tight. Had he pushed his kidnapper too far?

"S…sorry," he whispered, "it's just; the Jackal would like to know where it is we are going."

Oh crap, he'd really done it now. The dark man's shoulders hunched over the wheel and he appeared to be scowling. Spinelli wondered if he would yell at him again or do something worse, like pull the car over and shoot him or maybe just shoot him and continue driving. He hadn't seen any sign of the gun that the man had used to coerce him into the car, but he worried that the other man would brandish it momentarily. Stone Cold, when, if he found him would be retrieving his body from a shallow grave.

He forced himself to look out the window. The scenery, next to impossible to see in the inky black night, passed by much too quickly for Spinelli's liking. How was he going to let Jason know how to find him if he had no clue where he was?

The man's hand had once again found its way to Spinelli's knee and then his thigh. Every now and again the kidnapper would rub his hand along Spinelli's thigh, causing Spinelli to bite down on his lip not to cry out in revulsion. The man remained eerily quiet throughout, every once in awhile casting a sly look his way. Spinelli diligently kept his eyes focused on the scenery that passed them by at rapid speed.

Lost in thought, he felt something wet and thick trickling down the side of his face and reached a hand up to wipe it away. His hand came back red with blood. He hastily wiped the blood from his hand on his jacket. His head had been throbbing with pain since he'd struck it against the rear view mirror; he hadn't realized that he'd clipped it that hard.

Dizziness overwhelmed him and he closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool window. No longer caring where it was they were heading, or that the man's hand had wandered further up his thigh, he allowed his mind to wander in the mounting silence. His thoughts drifted to memories of the time he'd spent with Jason and Maxie. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he fell into a restless doze.


	4. Naseau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick and not quite tracking what's going on, Spinelli asks his kidnapper to pull over. Jason hopes that the brief stop along the highway will help him to close the distance between them, so that he can rescue Spinelli from this freak.

The quietness ate at his nerves as Jason drove aimlessly along the freeway, heading north, hoping that he was going in the right direction. He'd long since passed the café Spinelli had spoken of, not bothering to stop and ask questions of the people there. He shook his head as he took in the neighborhood. _What the hell had Spinelli been thinking coming to this part of town? Chances are that he hadn't been_ thinking at all. When he got him back safe and sound he was going to ring his neck.

He kept his eyes peeled for Spinelli's hybrid. _Why hadn't the kid gotten something a little flashier, like orange or green?_ Instead, he'd decided to go along with Maxie's, and much to his chagrin, his own suggestion that he get something of a more subdued hue and Spinelli had gone with a sleek silver which unfortunately blended in with all of the other silver cars out on the freeway tonight. Thankfully he'd memorized the younger man's license plate, not that it did him much good on the moonless night.

After what must have been an hour or more of silence in which Spinelli drifted in and out of awareness, hoping that his phone hadn't gone dead and that Jason was there, listening, even to the silence, there in spirit if nothing else, the man spoke. His voice was gravelly and hard-edged, "I'm taking you to your new home." A squeeze of the knee accompanied his statement.

The unexpected answer came so suddenly and out of the blue that Spinelli jerked in his seat, coming to full awareness in the blink of an eye. His head banged painfully against the window and he hissed as the wound on his scalp was jarred. There was a smear of blood on the window in the spot where his head had rested against it. He wanted to ask just where that was, but felt that he'd already pressed his luck too far.

"And that's outside of the great state of New York?" He questioned quietly instead as he watched the sign which read, 'Thank you for visiting New York,' whiz by past them as they entered the state of Vermont. "You live in Vermont?" He hoped his voice sounded whimsical, but worried that it has come out as panicked as he felt. Spinelli closed his eyes briefly to tamp down on his fear.

"No," the dark man answered simply, " _we_ live in Vermont." The hungry look he sent Spinelli made the younger man's blood run cold.

 _Way to go Spinelli!_ Jason cheered silently. He was heading in the right direction, was just a half an hour from the state line. _Just hang in there_ , Jason urged, _I'm right behind you kid. Don't give up hope._

Spinelli's head ached and he found that it was difficult to hold it up, so he rested it against the window, trying to get as comfortable as he possibly could in the cramped confines of the car. "How much further before we're…home?" His eyes were drifting closed.

"Just another hour," the dark man had relaxed considerably now that they'd left the state of New York. "You'll love the cabin. I've made changes to it since the last time."

Spinelli was confused, over the course of the past couple of hours; he'd slipped into a state of half-aware, semi-consciousness. _What did the man mean by that? Had he met this man before? Maybe his head had hit the window harder than he thought because he was having a hard time making any sense of what was being said and who was talking._

"Huh?" Spinelli was so sleepy. It was really hard for him to attend to the conversation. _Were he and Jason on a road trip?_ "What's that Stone Cold?" His words came out slurred. He attempted to raise his head, but it refused to cooperate.

Jason's heart lurched in his chest. _Had the man drugged Spinelli?_ He was speaking as though drunk. Had his question been directed at him or had he confused him with the carjacker? Either answer was not good. His ability to rescue Spinelli rested on the younger man's ability to continue to feed him accurate information. Stepping harder on the gas pedal, Jason increased his speed, praying that he wouldn't be pulled over.

"Stone Cold?" The dark man questioned sharply and Spinelli squinted at the man in the driver's seat. He sounded angry and he couldn't figure out what he'd said that had angered him. _Was he not his mentor?_ Spinelli could have sworn that they had gone on a road trip or had he just been dreaming that? He was unsure and nausea roiled in the pit of his stomach. He was going to be sick.

"Pull over," Spinelli moaned, "please? I think… I'm gonna be sick." His head was now pounding along with the fast pace beat of his heart. He didn't have much time, and he knew that being sick in the car would not endear him to the driver, whether it was Stone Cold or not.

 _Yes, that's it, pull over._ Jason was just passing through the state line. If they pulled over, he'd have a much better chance of overtaking them, that is, if they hadn't taken a side road and were still on the main highway. That's when Jason spotted it, Spinelli's car, though he almost brushed it off as a figment of his overworked imagination, he blinked his eyes, scrubbing at them as though to wipe away his weariness. He narrowed his eyes, and sped up so that his headlights were trained on the unmistakable license plate: Jckl1. _Hang in there just a little longer Spinelli! I've got you now._

The dark man glanced over at him, Spinelli had his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a fresh wave of nausea overtook him, so he couldn't see the look of concern on the other man's face as he took in his condition. He didn't know that he looked like death warmed over, that the blood which had been steadily seeping from his head wound was caked and smudged on his face in brackish relief against the pallor of his skin which was covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Had he been aware of anything other than the urgent pull and push tug-of-war game that his stomach was waging, he would have noted that the car had taken a side road and that, before it was brought to a halt, his kidnapper had pulled fully off the road, keeping their location hidden from the main highway. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, Spinelli fumbled with the door handle and, upon wresting it open, retched onto the rocks on the side of the road. He was still held firmly in place by the seat belt, but had bent over as far as the restraining belt would allow.

Wave after wave of nausea had him retching again and again until nothing was left in his stomach, and still his body continued to send him through the useless process as his stomach clenched and had him dry heaving convulsively. He felt as though his limbs were on fire and there was an incessant stabbing pain in his head, as though a knife were being shoved into and out of his temple mercilessly.

Jason watched the car pull off the main road, and though he was worried about Spinelli, he passed the small road, knowing that if whoever had taken Spinelli thought they were being followed, the consequences for his roommate could be dire. So, he drove another mile or two before making an illegal U-Turn through the ditch which separated the lanes and headed back in the direction he'd come before making yet another illegal pass through the ditch, eyes scanning the area for the small, unmarked side road. Finding it, he turned off the headlights and slowly made his way down the narrow road.

It was dark, not even the stars seemed to be shining. It was slow going and Jason worried that with the lack of light that he'd somehow bypassed the silver car which was no doubt tucked away from sight. He knew that the car had stopped, could hear Spinelli's painful retching over the phone and his heart clenched in commiseration. _What had that man done to him? When he got his hands on him…_


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing is everything.

Spinelli groaned as cool hands were pressed flush against his forehead and a wet napkin wiped away the sickness around his mouth. His stomach had granted him a reprieve, he'd had a few blissful, nausea-free minutes to regain his bearings and found that, at the moment, he no longer cared whose cool hands were touching him as the gentle touch eased some of the heat and the pain. For some reason, he couldn't seem to get his eyes to work properly and the effort it took to attempt opening them was too much.

The hands were deftly working to free him from the seat belt which had confined him to the car. They were sure and moderately aggressive, yet Spinelli allowed them to navigate him from the seat and onto the rocky surface of the road. He didn't protest when they divested him of his laptop. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. Before he could crumple to the ground, the hands were back, lifting him like a child.

Warm lips brushed his forehead and lingered. Spinelli whimpered and struggled weakly in the arms which held him close to a strong, muscular chest. As the night's events came back to him in an onslaught of memory, he fought to regain his footing. He had to get away from the dark man who'd taken him hostage. Jason wasn't coming, it was up to him.

"Shh, you're safe now. I've got you," was murmured against his ear, reminding him of how his evening of terror had begun. Something though was different, and that thought gave Spinelli pause in his struggles even as his fevered mind told him to flee.

* * *

 

Jason brought his vehicle to a crunching halt after a minute's drive and got out of the warm SUV. He was going to scour the road up and down if that's what it took for him to find Spinelli. He wasn't going to risk bypassing the car and losing him entirely. He walked further along the road, confident that he'd be able to find the vehicle in spite of the darkness. The crisp, cold winter air was refreshing and helped keep him alert.

He'd brought the cell phone with him to monitor the situation and his heart ached for the young man who couldn't seem to stop retching. He knew that time was running out and began to jog, sweeping his eyes to the left and the right as he did so.

* * *

 

Spinelli was being carried away from the vehicle. Were they that close to his kidnapper's home that he could cart him there on foot? If that almost kiss on the forehead was anything to go by, Spinelli knew with a terrifying certainty that he needed to get away before the man managed to make it to his cabin deep within the woods of Vermont where he would never be found again, not even by his sure-footed, steadfast mentor.

He renewed his vain struggles against the unrelenting arms of his abductor. He was in a weakened state brought on by the blow to his head and it had been intensified by his episode of retching by the side of the road. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that he would not be able to escape, he'd be held prisoner for as long as the dark, scarred man wished to keep him alive. He'd be victim to his every vile whim. He'd failed.

"Stone Cold," he cried out feebly, hoping that his mentor would be able to hear him through their connection on the cell phone. _Had he picked up the call? Was he listening even now?_ He had to have faith that it was so. He wanted to make sure that his mentor understood that he'd tried, that he wasn't giving up now, but trying to survive before he could mount a viable escape.

"Sorry, not sure if you're even listening, if the battery of my phone has given out," he no longer cared whether his tormentor discovered his attempt at trickery or not. His phone would soon be dead and he doubted he'd be able to make another such phone call in the near future if ever. He'd focus now on surviving moment-by-moment.

"I love you," the words rang out clearly in the night air in spite of the hoarseness of his voice and Spinelli blushed in the darkness. Clearing his throat, he continued on, wondering why his cell phone hadn't yet been snatched from his pocket and why the man hadn't spoken up in anger or reprimanded him for talking as he'd done before, "like a brother, you know," he finished and drew in a deep breath.

"I know," the words were so soft that Spinelli had to strain to hear them, "I love you too." In Spinelli's fevered mind the words seemed, not to be coming from the phone in the breast pocket of his jacket, but from the lips man who carried him and yet it had sounded so much like Stone Cold.

He felt hot, humid breath against his ear and, though he was scared and sick and aching, he forced his eyes open to get a good look at the man who seemed deadest on having him as his own possession.

Jason approached the vehicle cautiously. His gamble had paid off and he'd been able to spot it just before he'd come upon it, enabling him to approach it at a crouch. He drew his weapon and trained it ahead of him as he went. Spinelli's retching had stopped and Jason contented himself with hearing his friend's labored breathing.

His heart lurched to his throat as he crept forward, both the passenger's and the driver's doors were open and he couldn't spot either Spinelli or the driver anywhere. He could hear Spinelli's breathing, but could only see a strained seatbelt where his friend ought to be.

A branch broke, diverting his attention away from Spinelli's car to a spot somewhere behind him where trees met the road. He squinted in the darkness, making out a darker shadow in the midst of the trees. Pocketing his gun, he crouched and, using the trees as cover, made his way toward the unmoving shadow amongst the trees.

White teeth shone dull in the dark as a hand, bearing a hunting knife was thrust forcefully at Jason's midsection. Jason dodged and feinted to the side. The knife was once again expertly wielded, yet it sliced only air as Jason deftly maneuvered out of reach before circling around to his opponent's back.

Franco's promise that if he killed again, he too would kill someone in response had no bearing here. Jason had his hands around the throat of the man who'd taken Spinelli hostage and he squeezed tight. Thinking about the plans he'd had for the younger man, he pulled the man toward his chest, wrapped his bicep around his throat and crushed his windpipe.

He ignored the man's death throes and continued squeezing until the man's body ceased its useless struggles. He dragged the body a few feet into the forest and left it there for the scavengers of the forest to feast on, not caring if his death was somehow traced back to him. What mattered now was getting to Spinelli and bringing him home to the safety of the penthouse and then never letting him out of his sight again.

Spinelli opened his eyes, determined to face his situation, no matter how dire it might be, head on. Icy blue eyes sparkling with startling concern greeted his wary gaze and a sob tore through Spinelli as he turned his face toward the chest of his rescuer and, clinging desperately to him, wept.

Jason cradled Spinelli in his arms and left the young man's hybrid behind as he carried his distraught roommate to the SUV. He was overwhelmed with the fierce protective instinct he felt toward the younger man and how easy it had been to kill for him. Even now, as he strode toward his vehicle, navigating his way through the darkness, carrying Spinelli was not a burden. The younger man seemed to fit perfectly in his arms and Jason marveled at that thought.

He knew that Spinelli was struggling against him because he hadn't yet realized that he'd been rescued. He tried to assuage him by speaking, but that had only seemed to make things worse, so he hurried his steps, pausing only when Spinelli spoke to him as though through their cell connection. His heart broke and he held his roommate tighter, hoping that it would help him know that he was in the arms of someone safe.

It was only when Spinelli opened his troubled green eyes and met his own concerned ones that the younger man seemed to understand that he was no longer being held as a prisoner. Jason rubbed Spinelli's back as the younger man cried and he whispered promises of safety in his ear, followed by a chaste kiss on the top of his head.

Spinelli turned his face toward his mentor as Jason opened the passenger door of the SUV and lowered him onto the seat, reclining it so that he would be comfortable, before securing the safety belt over him. "Thank you Stone Cold," he whispered.

Jason's face hovered over his for a brief moment as he made sure that Spinelli was comfortable and his stomach did a flip-flop as his mentor bent down so that their lips were millimeters apart. Sparks of lust and protectiveness warred for control in the glacial blue eyes and Spinelli bridged the short gap between them by raising his head so that their lips touched.

Opening his mouth slightly, he brought one hand up and tugged Jason's head closer. Jason's free hand cupped the base of Spinelli's head, drawing him upward as he initiated their first kiss. His tongue darted past Spinelli's parted lips and they deepened the kiss. Gasping for air, Jason released Spinelli.

Spinelli's eyes searched Jason's and his heart lurched at the fierce protectiveness he saw in his mentor's eyes. His lips tingled warmly, a remnant ghost from their kiss, and his head swam dizzily as he imagined kissing his mentor again and again.

"Spinelli," Jason's voice was rough and throaty. His eyes held tears which sparkled in the dim overhead light of the SUV. "I've got one more thing to do and then I promise, I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he promised, placing a kiss on the younger man's lips. Rising, he ran a shaky hand through his hair and let out a breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli rasped. Panic gripped him as Jason moved away from him. He raised his arms to pull the man back, but Jason had moved out of reach. _Oh God, this has all been a dream._ He closed his eyes as tears poured out and sobs wracked him.

"Spinelli?" Jason was at the boy's side in an instant. His hands reaching for him, and pulling him to his chest to comfort him.

"Is it really you?" Spinelli's eyes were glazed and frenetic with worry as he looked at his mentor. Somewhere at the back of his mind was a frantic, chaotic clawing voice telling him that what he was seeing was a hallucination and that it wasn't Jason who stood before him, but rather the man who'd taken him hostage. His head pounded relentlessly and his thoughts swirled madly as he sought to bring some order to his wild thoughts.

"Yes, Spinelli," Jason's voice was heavy with concern and he brushed Spinelli's hair off his forehead, noting that the younger man seemed to have a fever. The blood caked in his hair, so close to his temple, sent up a red flag of alarm in Jason's mind. "It's really me. You're safe now and I'll keep you safe, but right now I have to take care of your car, so that no one finds it. Then I need to get you to a hospital."

Spinelli shook his head, and opened his mouth to protest, but Jason placed a silencing finger on his lips. "I think you've got a concussion," he spoke calmly, barring the younger man from damaging his head even further by continuing to shake it.

"I need you to stay here," Jason's hands were on Spinelli's shoulders holding him in place as it looked like he'd been about to sit up, "do you think you can do that for me?" Jason waited until Spinelli looked him in the eye and gave him a tentative nod. "I'll be right back; I just need to move your car off the road and into the woods so that no one can find it. Don't worry," he smiled as Spinelli's mouth twisted in a grimace of remorse over losing his new car. "I'll send Max or Milo to come pick it up and clean out all of the blood," his voice thickened with unshed tears as he tenderly touched the side of Spinelli's head where he'd hit it multiple times.

Spinelli looked ready to protest, but Jason leaned forward and pressed his lips to his, "I promise that I'll be right back." His lips remained on Spinelli's for a split second more before he pulled away.

Terror gripped Spinelli's heart, "What if…" he didn't want to voice his fear that the dark man who'd held him captive would once again reclaim him.

Understanding Spinelli's unspoken worry, Jason smiled grimly. "Don't worry; I've taken care of him. He won't be able to hurt you, or anyone else, ever again." The murderous look in his mentor's eyes caused Spinelli to shudder momentarily before he nodded in understanding and, much to his mortification, relief and a sense of intense satisfaction flooded him.

Spinelli's eyes closed as Jason left to go take care of his car. He returned shortly, but Spinelli was barely aware that he'd been gone. His head was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to go home and get some sleep. Jason buckled him in and shut the passenger door after another parting kiss to boy's sweaty the forehead.

Swinging into the driver's seat, Jason turned toward Spinelli in the semi-darkness of the SUV's cab and gave the younger man a devilish grin. "I think it's time to get you home and to bed, right after we take care of that nasty bump to your head." He brushed the lump that had formed near Spinelli's right temple.

Spinelli returned his mentor's smile before succumbing to the sweet, blissful darkness that beckoned him as Jason put the vehicle into gear and started on their journey home.

* * *


End file.
